So

travelling the same way. But for the grace of God there goes John Bradford. Bunyan said of himself, in describing these two fellows, Formalist and Hypocrisy, But for the grace of God there goes John Bunyan. Nay in describing these characters, Bunyan was just cutting out two of the pictures of his own unconverted state, to insert them into this heavenly Mosaic of his Pilgrim's Progress.

For, in point of fact, he had been himself both Formalist and Hypocrisy; he had acted both these parts in his unconverted state; and, if he had stopped there, he had lived and died a formalist and a hypocrite. I do not mean that Bunyan ever had in his character the elements of such meanness, as would take to itself deliberately the cloak of religion to cover, conceal, and practise its wickedness; that is the extreme of hypocrisy, and marks the most abandoned of all villains. But formalism itself is hypocrisy, and where a man does only deceive himself, by the concealment from himself of his own true character as a sinner, and by trusting in some other refuge than Christ, that man is a hypocrite, for he pretends to be a great deal better than he is; nay, he pretends to have goodness enough for his salvation, without coming in by the door, when God knows it is all rottenness and a lie.

Now you will remember there was a time when Bunyan was a thorough-going Churchman without one particle of religion in his soul. He would go to church in the morning, and worship the minister's robes, and the altar, and in the afternoon he would make the air ring with his merriment at the game of Cat. At this time, you will remember, he neither cared nor knew whether there were any Saviour or not; the complete sum of his religion was Form, nor did he even attempt to go any farther. So, certainly, here was the Formalist in perfection. At another time, he was going to heaven by an external reformation, and thought he pleased God as well as any man in England. But he declared that every thing he either did or said, was done solely out of regard to human applause; for he was filled with delight to hear his neighbours speak so well of him. Here again, certainly, was the hypocrite in perfection. So that that answer, which Formalist and Hypocrite made to Christian, Bunyan wrote down out of his old, unconverted, vainglorious heart: We come from the land of Vainglory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion.

The right way by the gate, the way by Christ and his righteousness, was deemed too far. But, said Christian, will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the City whether we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will? Christian is always for Scripture. But they told him that they had plenty of examples for the way they came in, and testimony for more than a thousand years; yea, the antiquity of the custom was such that every impartial judge would admit it as a thing legal. The fathers would doubtless be brought to justify it, and all antiquity was in its favour; and when such multitudes had been justified by works for more than a thousand years, they would have been fools indeed, seeing that in the land of Vainglory there was plenty of that commodity, works done to be seen of men, if they should trouble themselves about faith and the gate. Besides, if we are in, we are in, said they. Thou art only in, who didst come by the gate; and we are also in, who came over the wall; so there is no difference.

Now here is depicted to the life that pretended liberality which you so often hear in men's conversation. All persuasions, it says, are right, and we are all travelling one way; they that reject eternal punishment, and they that believe in it, they that deny the atonement, and they that receive it; they will all get to heaven at last. Ah, but, said Christian, there is a Rule, and I walk by it, the Rule of my Master; but you walk by the rude working of your own fancies. You are thieves and robbers, by the Lord's own description; and as you come in by yourselves, without the Lord's direction, you will also go out by yourselves, without the Lord's mercy.

This was a plainness, honesty, and simplicity, characteristic of Christian. But the men told him to take care of himself, and they would take care of themselves; and as to laws and ordinances they should keep them as conscientiously as he; and as to all his pretence of inward experience, the new birth, repentance, and faith, and all that, it might do for such a ragged creature as he had been. All the neighbours knew that he had been a worthless wretch, and it was well indeed that he had got such a coat to cover his nakedness; but they had always gone well dressed, and having never been so bad as he was, needed not so great a change; their laws and ordinances would save them. So Christian told them that this inward experience, this regeneration by the Holy Spirit, this faith in Christ alone as an atoning Saviour, and this evidence of that Saviour's

mercy in a renewed heart and life, were as absolutely necessary for them, as for him, and that if they had come in at the gate, they would certainly have had these things also; and that when they came to the Celestial Gate, they would be shut out without them. He told them moreover that the Lord of the place had given him that coat which was on his back, and not any of his neighbours; and that he did indeed give it to him to hide his nakedness, for that before he had indeed been a poor, miserable, ragged, guilty, sinner; but now the Lord Jesus had given him for his garment his own wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, and had thus sealed him by his grace in such a manner, that he would know him well when he came to give in his roll at the Celestial Gate. For all this, the men cared nothing at all, but looked at each other and laughed; it was so ridiculous to them to hear Christian talking of a new birth, and of grace and faith, and the love of the Saviour. All that cant may do very well for a conventicle, said they, but we abide by respectable antiquity and the forms of our church. So they all went on, and Christian communed with himself, seeing that they both laughed at him, and could not understand him. They thought he was a harmless mystic, probably weak in his mind, and very illiterate. So he went sometimes sighingly and sometimes comfortably, but much refreshed by reading in his roll.

Together therefore they went on, till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty; and this is about as far as Formalist and Hypocrisy will ever go in religion. You will always find them stopping at the foot of Hill Difficulty. Formalism and Hypocrisy may always be a ridiculing and persecuting religion, but never a suffering one. At the bottom of this hill there were two other paths beside the strait one, turning off one to the left, the other to the right; and there always will be such paths where there are difficulties; there always will be ways, by which persons so disposed may avoid difficulties, and indulge themselves; but when people turn aside to go in them, it were well to note distinctly that they are not the strait and narrow way, and do not lead to heaven. Over this Hill Difficulty must Christian go. But Formalist and Hypocrisy, seeing how high and steep it was, concluded between themselves that these two convenient paths, winding off so opportunely and invitingly at the bottom, must of course meet again in the strait and narrow way on the other side of the hill, and so determined to try them.

Mark you they did not intend to quit the strait way entirely, into which they came at first by tumbling over the wall, but to come into it again, after avoiding the Hill Difficulty. And so a great many persons intend to conform to the world, or to indulge in sinful things only in certain points, only for the present distress, and then come up again, just as a boat may strike her sails in being under a bridge, and then raise them again. And a great many persons intend to come at Heaven without its costing them any thing. I will not undertake to say that if Formalist and Hypocrisy had known that these bypaths would never come again into the right way, they would not have gone over the hill; perhaps they might, and not have turned aside till they came to a more fearful evil. But Christian saw them no more. The names of these paths were Danger and Destruction, and they each took one, and wandered on till they came to dreary woods and dark mountains, where they stumbled and fell, and rose no more. And herein was fulfilled that in the one hundred and twenty-fifth Psalm, "As for such as turn aside into crooked ways, the Lord shall lead them forth with the workers of iniquity."

There was a cool delicious spring at the bottom of this Hill Difficulty, as there generally is where the Lord's people have peculiar hardships to encounter, according to the promise, "As thy strength is, so shall thy day be." There are angels for Hagar in the wilderness, quails for Elijah pursued by his enemies, springs of water in the desert, where, when God pleases, the rain shall fill the pools to give drink to his beloved ones. Unto whatever conflict or labour God calls his people, he always gives the necessary preparation thereunto. So Christian went and drank of this precious spring at the bottom of the Hill Difficulty. From the eyes of Formality and Hypocrisy it seems to have been kept sealed, or, as it was pure cold water for a thirsty soul, they, having no spiritual thirst, cared not for it; but Christian drank thereof and was sweetly refreshed; for God hath said, "He that hath mercy on them, shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them." So with this draught of the water of life, Christian, animated and invigorated, addressed himself to the hill.

At first he ran, then he had to content himself with walking, and that very wearily and slowly, but at length it became so steep that he was fain to clamber up on his hands and

knees. Sometimes it is with the greatest labour and trial, that in our Christian course we make any progress whatever. We have to clamber from duty to duty, from prayer to prayer, from chapter to chapter in God's word. It is like an invalid climbing the pyramids, and with all the assistance we can get, it is slow work. Every thing within and without seems to be against us. We wait upon the Lord, but the heart is still heavy, the air seems heavy, and we do not mount up on wings as eagles, and though we walk we are weary, and we faint if we run. Many a Christian is climbing the Hill Difficulty when you cannot see his troubles.

But the Lord does not forget to be gracious. About midway of the Hill there was a pleasant arbour, for the refreshment of weary travellers, where Christian with thankfulness sat down to rest him. And now he began to look over his evidences, and to regard with great comfort and delight the garment that the Shining Ones had given him, so that he almost forgot that he was to go any farther, or that there was any more work for him to do. He forgot the exhortation to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, and to press forward towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus; and he was so well satisfied with himself, his roll, his robe, his acceptance with God, that while he was resting, the spirit of slumber came over him, and what at first he intended should only be a moment's nap, like a man asleep during sermon time in church, became a thorough deep sleep, which endured even till the twilight; and in this sleep, Christian's roll fell out of his hand. Ah, if the great adversary had been there, ill would it have fared then with poor Christian. He is fast asleep, and his roll has fallen, and the night is coming, and he is only half-way up the hill, and still he sleeps on. He that sleeps is a loser, says Bunyan in the margin; that arbour was never designed to sleep in, but to rest in. But there is One who watches over him, who will not leave him, who helpeth our infirmities. This gracious Being whispered in his ear, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise!" Ay, that was a timely awakening and warning-so great is the Holy Spirit's faithfulness and mercy even when we lose ourselves in slumber.

Christian could now say, in that very striking verse of Watts, which those who have such a passion for altering our familiar hymns to make them correspond to their selfconstituted musical judgment, have dephlogisticated in the hymn-book:

The little ants, for one poor grain,

Labour, and tug, and strive;
But we, who have a heaven to obtain,
How negligent we live!

Awakened thus by the Spirit of God, Christian started up, and ran as fast as he could, not yet knowing that he had lost his roll, till he came to the top of the hill. We sometimes fall into a state through our own heedlessness, in which assurance is gone, and the way is prepared for great gloom and anguish, if circumstances of trial come on. And yet we may run well, even without our roll, so long as there is nothing special to alarm us. Poor Christian had to endure a great deal of sorrow by that indulgence in sleep. As he was running on, Timorous and Mistrust met him, running full of terror the other way. What is the matter, said Christian, you run the wrong way? Why, said Timorous and Mistrust, the farther we go, the more danger we meet; we had but just conquered the Hill Difficulty, when just before us we discovered two lions in the way; so we turned, and are hurrying back as fast as possible. With that they ran down the hill.

Now was Christian himself greatly afraid, for there is nothing so takes away the courage as the consciousness of guilt; and Christian, on feeling for his roll, that he might have that to comfort and sustain him amidst these dangers, found that he had lost it. And now what should he do? What had become of it? Examining himself on this point, he remembered that he had slept in the arbour, and then at once falling on his knees, he asked of God forgiveness for that foolish sleep, and then with great heaviness and sorrow of heart went back to look for his roll. Thus, when the Holy Spirit brings to mind the sins of the Christian, as he is asking himself why he has so little heavenly evidence, there is no way for him to do but to seek forgiveness, confessing his guilt. But it is a fearful thing, when the night comes on, when danger and perhaps death are drawing near, and you need all the comfort, consolation, and support that you can possibly derive from a good hope in Christ, to find that that hope is gone from the soul, to find darkness where there ought to be light.

It is not to be doubted that Bunyan was writing this experience of Christian out of his

own heart; it is almost the counterpart of his own inward trials about the time of his commitment to prison, when you will remember there was great gloom upon his soul, and the things of God were hidden from him, and neither sun nor stars appeared for many days. Then there were dreadful lions in the way, nor could he see that they were chained; then he felt afraid to die, because he had no spiritual comfort. Bunyan resolved to die for Christ, whether comfort came or not, whether he found his roll or did not find it. But Christian could not go on without his roll. Oh how did he chide himself for being so foolish as to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment of his weariness! When he came to the arbour, the very sight of it renewed his sorrow and shame for that foolish sleep in the day-time and in the midst of difficulty; that he should have used that arbour of rest for ease to the flesh, which the Lord of the hill had erected only for the relief of the spirits of the Pilgrims. Alas, cried he, that I should have to tread those steps with sorrow, and thrice over, which I might have trodden but once, and with delight! This is what Christians are often doing, and this evil is certainly a great one, of using for indulgence and ease to the flesh what God has given us to minister to the advancement of our spirits. We are not anxious enough to be making progress towards heaven; we are too fond of comfort, and too averse from labour. Oh, said Christian, that I had not slept! Oh that God would have mercy on me! And now the fifty-first Psalm came into his mind, and he cried out with David, "Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit; then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee." But oh, thought Christian, without my roll I can never have the heart to speak to another person as long as I live. What shall I do? what shall I do? He knew now that it was an evil and bitter thing to depart from the living God; yea, this experience was as dreadful to him as that under Mount Sinai. Yea, says Doddridge, in his Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul, the anguish of broken bones is not to be compared with the wretchedness of a soul that has departed from God, when it comes to be filled with its own way. Oh that God would have mercy upon me! said Christian. "Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.'

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Oh that I knew where I might find him! said Christian. 'Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him." This must always be the case, when the child of God departs from God; and if it be not so, then there is great reason to believe that the person so wandering, and yet not troubled on account of it, is not a child of God. If Christian had said within himself, when he found his roll was missing, Well, it is not essential, or I shall find it again by and by, and so had gone on, indifferent and easy, it had been enough to show that either he was not Christian, or that much sorer evil awaited him, and sharper discipline to bring him to repentance. But he could not go on in this manner, his conscience was too tender, and his sense of divine things too vivid; and so the sorrows of death compassed him, and the pains of hell gat hold upon him; he found trouble and sorrow; and back did he go, weeping and looking for his roll, and crying, O Lord, I beseech thee deliver my soul.

Now God sees all this in his children, and permits them to endure this distress that they may gain a lesson from it, which will last them as long as they live. But he knows what he does unto them, and just what they need. "When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my way." And just so, when Christian had well nigh given up in despair, and was setting himself down to weep, disconsolate and brokenhearted, as kind Providence would have it, looking through his tears beneath the settle, there he espied the roll, and with what trembling, eager haste did he catch it up and secure it again in his bosom! Oh, who can tell how joyful he was when he had gotten his roll again! And now returning thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, (and ever should the Christian who has been wandering from God, and so has gotten into darkness, be thankful for the least ray of returning light; and ever will he, for no deliverance is so grateful to the soul as that,) Christian did with joy and tears betake himself again to his journey. But he had lost a great deal of time, and it was now growing dark, and now he began again to think of what Mistrust and Timorous had told him about the lions, a thing which his misery in the loss of his roll had driven at first from his mind, just as great griefs medicine the less. Now, said Christian to himself,

these beasts range abroad in the night for their prey, and if I should meet them in the dark, how should I escape being torn in pieces?

So he went on, troubling himself greatly with these thoughts, when suddenly there rose before him like a dream a very stately palace, close by the highway side, which being within the walls of salvation, and directly where he must pass by, he knew to belong to the Lord of the way, and therefore to the Pilgrims; or at any rate that the Pilgrims would there be welcome. Now if he might get to that palace, and be lodged there, he would care little for the lions; but as he went forward towards the narrow passage which led up to the gate, being very closely on the watch to see the lions of Mistrust and Timorous' description, there they were, sure enough, grim and terrible; and now he thought of going back, but the porter cried out to him, reproving him for his want of strength and faith, and telling him that the lions were chained, and were suffered to be there to try the faith of Pilgrims, if they had it, and to discover if they had none. With this was Christian greatly encouraged; but with all this he went trembling and afraid, and keeping to the middle of the path; and though he heard the lions roar on him, yet they did him no harm, and when he got past them he clapped his hands, and made haste up to the porter at the entrance to the Palace Beautiful. May I lodge here to-night? said he. So he was told that the Lord of the Hill himself had built this house for the relief and security of pilgrims. The porter asked Christian several questions, as who he was, and where from, and what was his name, and whither he was going, and why he came so late, all which interrogatories Christian ingenuously answered, especially the last, confessing his sinful, sorrowful sleep.

There are some important lessons to be learned from this Hill Difficulty, as first, the folly of thinking to gain heaven without trouble and self-denial. In nothing else in this world do men ever act on this principle. If there be any great thing to be gained in this life, all men are sure that it is going to cost great effort, and they are ready to make such effort; nor is it a light thing that will turn them aside. They will go up a Hill Difficulty, without drinking at any spring but that of their sanguine expectation, and without deigning to rest in any arbour by the way, much more without losing time by sleeping in it. And if there be lions in the way, they will go at them at once; yea, if a loaded cannon stood in their path, and a bag of gold beyond it, or the cup of sinful pleasure, they would go on. If there be mountains which they cannot overtop, they will dig through them; and they will suffer days of weariness and nights of pain, they will make long pilgrimages, will expatriate themselves for years, and suffer banishment from families, friends, firesides, into strange lands, will cross oceans, and encounter perils of every name and shape, to accomplish and realize the object of their earthly ambition ; and after all, what is it? A dream, a straw, a bauble, a flake of foam on the surface of a river. They pluck it, it is gone, and they are gone with it. While they snatch at it they pass into eternity, and death finishes their plans for ever.

expect to gain without

Is not heaven worth

But even the poor things they seek for in this life, they do not labour. And shall we expect to gain heaven without labour? labouring after? And is it not the part of wisdom so to run not as uncertainly, so to fight, not as one that beateth the air? Now we ought soberly to say, I expect difficulties, and I mean, by God's grace, not to be discouraged when I meet with them. They are, in truth, the very means which God must use for my discipline. It is only by meeting and overcoming them that I can be fitted for heaven. And as to the dangers in the way, the best way of safety from them is to come up boldly to them. If we stand afar off and tremble, they seem much greater than they are. If we march straight on, confiding in Christ, we always find that the lions are chained, and can only roar at us, and do no harm. At all events, it is better to go forward than backward. Be not like Mistrust and Timorous. It is more dangerous to run down the Hill Difficulty than to clamber up. And he that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh back, is not fit for the kingdom of heaven.

We see here, likewise, the repetition of that lesson that nothing is so hard to bear as a wounded conscience, a mind not at peace with God. There is nothing so hard for the Christian to bear as that; and when the light of God's countenance is hidden from him by reason of sin, be you sure that there is not a creature in the world so miserable as he. But if sin and conscience can make him so miserable, who has only fallen for a season into its power, as Christian did in the arbour, and who has a Saviour to go to, and will go to him, and stay at the foot of the cross even amidst the darkness, what work must it